bounded by shadows

chapter 16

There was a thin line between love and hate, and with each passing day, that line seemed to blur a little more. This thought echoed in Janaki's mind more often than she cared to admit. As she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Michael. Their arguments, his infuriating presence, the way his blue eyes seemed to bore into her soul—they were all distractions she couldn't shake.

Janaki's studio, usually a place of solace and creativity, now bore the marks of her inner turmoil. The once neatly arranged canvases were strewn around the room, some propped against the walls, others lying haphazardly on the floor. Her frustration was evident in the state of her workspace, a reflection of the chaos within her.

As she moved through the clutter, her eyes fell on her latest series of paintings. Each one was meant to capture different aspects of her life in France, but an unsettling pattern had emerged. In almost every piece, whether consciously or not, the silhouette of Michael appeared. Sometimes it was his full figure, other times it was the distinctive tattoos on his hands or the piercing blue of his eyes.

Janaki picked up a canvas and studied it closely. What was supposed to be a serene landscape was marred by the faint outline of Michael's form. His presence seemed to invade her work, just as he invaded her thoughts. She grabbed another painting—a still life of flowers. Amidst the petals, the shape of his tattooed hand was unmistakable.

The realisation hit her hard. Michael had become an unwelcome muse, his image tainting her art. It was as if her emotions towards him had bled onto the canvas, turning her creations into a battleground for her conflicting feelings. The anger she felt towards him, the inexplicable attraction, the unspoken tension—they were all there, captured in brushstrokes and colours.

In a fit of frustration, Janaki picked up a brush and dipped it into a dark, angry red. She slashed at the canvas, trying to erase the traces of him, but it only seemed to make things worse. The red smeared across his silhouette, blending into the background but never fully disappearing.

She moved to another painting, one that featured a cityscape. In the corner, barely noticeable, were his eyes, watching her. With a cry of exasperation, she splattered paint over them, trying to cover the evidence of his intrusion. But no matter how hard she tried, Michael's presence was indelible.

Janaki sank to the floor, surrounded by her ruined paintings. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. Why couldn't she get him out of her head? Why did he have such a hold on her? She wiped at her tears angrily, smudging paint across her cheeks.

As she sat there, the words echoed in her mind once more: There was a thin line between love and hate, and with each passing day, that line seemed to blur a little more. She knew it was true. Her feelings for Michael were tangled in a web of anger and attraction, making it impossible to separate one from the other.

The paintings around her were a testament to that confusion. Each brushstroke, each colour, reflected the push and pull she felt. In trying to expel him from her work, she had only embedded him deeper into it. Janaki knew she needed to confront these feelings, to understand why Michael affected her so profoundly. But for now, all she could do was sit amidst the chaos, grappling with the realisation that the line between love and hate was not just thin—it was almost non-existent.

As she stared at the mess around her, a thought struck Janaki. Maybe, instead of fighting these feelings, she needed to embrace them. To use her art as a way to explore and understand the complex emotions Michael stirred in her. Perhaps then, she could find some semblance of peace and clarity.